


Push and Pull

by mousewriter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:52:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousewriter/pseuds/mousewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock romanticizes the color of his and John's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Push and Pull

**Author's Note:**

> this just happened, and i rather like it.

“ _Sherlock.”_ He says. And he’s much too close.

Somehow, I’ve become a romantic.

It shouldn’t be this way, should it? This isn’t my climate. I should be uncomfortable under his heady gaze but no, I revel in it. Sentiment, the flaw in me. Oh, his eyes.

Why am I so enamored with the way his pupils dilate? Close enough to see the black spread wide, push against iris. What is it about the way his short lashes twitch when he moves his eyes around, looking at me? Black and blue and blindingly white and peach. Blonde. My memory builds his face around his eyes.

His eyes. They are deep and dark and blue like the Ocean. Mine are pale and aloof. The Moon.

Ocean and Moon. Gravity is our plaything, and we volley it back and forth. We coexist but never touch.

Now we touch.

If the Moon were to fall into the Ocean, waves would die out. Aftereffects of a long lost dance, flow in flow out, gone when the Moon cannot pull them. The Moon rests amongst calmed waters, water displacement, a shift to welcome the Moon. A calm Ocean.

No Moon to pull the Ocean. The Ocean is of the Earth, as was the Moon, but not anymore. The Moon is a satellite, dancing with the Ocean, taunting the earth: I am above you, look how I manipulate your Ocean! No, that’s not the right word. Not manipulate, something… else.

The Ocean clings to Earth, but moves with the will of the Moon. Belongs to the Moon.

Not something else, something… more.

At some point, the Moon was claimed by the Ocean.

Is it alright that I’m here? Shift your water, stop your waves.

Is it alright that we touch?

His lips against mine are stiff and awkward and I think that this isn’t what he wants. Stupid Moon.

But then his mouth parts and his lips shift and _oh god this is all he wants._

This is all _I_ want.

“Get out of your head.” He growls in my ear, a suggestion of teeth at my earlobe.

I hadn’t realized it, but I am sinking. Moon Me is falling through water, the— _His_ —Ocean. I (Moon) hit bottom, capsize, and reappear on the surface. And there are waves again.

And I’m out of my head.

John is there. He is pulling me out of my thoughts, restructuring to a more carnal nature. There are more points of contact than his two hands can accomlish, and I realize that we are body-to-body. Lips-to-lips.

His hands to my neck, a soft sweep of a caress down past my collar, unbuttoning my shirt.

My hands to his jeans, unbuckling. I let gravity take them down his thighs as I slide my hands under his jumper. He is warm. The bulky knit is pushed up to his arms before he steps back for the briefest second to let me shove it off him completely. He returns to me, hungry, pushes my arms back as he pushes my shirt off, gravity takes the fabric to the floor. He’s toeing off his shoes. I push him to the bed and he pulls me to him. Gravity pulls us closer.

I do my best to support my own torso, but he’s pulled me farther than I can balance without throwing my arms out to brace myself. I shift my hips forward and duck slightly, and he cranes his neck up, pushing back against my lips.

I manage to undo my belt, my button, my zipper. His hands are there, too, pushing down. I’m naked to him as I step out of my fallen clothes. Am I too close? His face, his mouth… all right there, in front of me. He could reach out and take me with his tongue but no, we aren’t there yet. He leans forward and kisses just below my navel: a suggestion. We are not ready, but we will be.

I climb onto the bed, onto him. “Take off your pants.” I say and he does, adjusting around me so our kiss is not broken. I lean back as he leans forward, as he reaches around me to his shins to rid him of clothing, and I hang onto his shoulder, kissing. He lifts his feet to move his pants underneath and away, and the shift in his hips cants his erection up to mine, and I did not know sex could be this good, that that _brief_ touch could elicit such a moan from my throat. I can feel him smile around our kiss.

His hand is there, right there, right where I want it, right where I need it. He pulls and strokes and traps me between his hand and his shaft, and he moves us together. I wrap my hand around his, and we work together.

This is our first time together, and I am ecstatic at our coordination.

Oh, sex will be more. He will push for more and I will push for more and we’ll pull together and push against each other. For now, sex is this. And this is wonderful.

His free hand braces against the bed, my own wraps around his shoulders, pulling us close. I kiss him and he kisses back and we move together by feel by touch by everything that I had once undervalued. That I once didn’t understand. _Sentiment._ More than that.

We are the Ocean and the Moon and we are _more._

“Sherlock” he moans. I say his name as well, but the sound is trapped in my throat. The deep bass of my almost word reverberates in the hollow of my body and he shudders ever so slightly at the noise I make.

And I can feel it. It’s going to happen. I tell him this and he kisses me, changing our rhythm. I follow as best I can at his new pace, but I’m distracted by the pooling heat in my groin—it’s disconcerting, but pleasurable. I know what comes next, and I know that the almost pleasure I feel will become much more so within the next minute.

John can feel it too.

And he’s there with me as cry out his name, the sounds I’m making finally leaving my throat. “John, _oh_ ,”. And he’s there with me doing the same, “ _Ah!”_

And he’s there with me when I fall against him. (When the Moon falls from the sky.) We lay together and I’m cradled to him. (When the Ocean claims the Moon.)

And I’m there when he looks as if to fall asleep.

(When the Ocean calms.)

“I love you.” He hears me. He looks at me.

(And there are waves again.)


End file.
